


What If We Wanna Stay?

by orphan_account



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mildly Dubious Consent, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 13:38:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1650569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Numbers and Mr. Wrench decide to have a little fun with Lester while they're all in the jail cell together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What If We Wanna Stay?

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of this very lovely fanart: http://archiaart.tumblr.com/post/85906681046/what-if-we-wanna-stay-i-havent-decided-yet

The men he only knows as Mr. Numbers and Mr. Wrench decide they want to stay a little longer. The cop that brought them lets them stay, thinking they have nowhere to go for the night. And it’s better to be hospitable than to send them out in the cold tonight. None of them move until the sound of cop’s footfalls cease.

“You were a lot more trouble than you’re worth,” Numbers says chucking a finger under Lester’s chin to get him to face him.

“I-I—” Lester struggles for something to say. Deep down, he _knows_ he’s more trouble than he’s worth. He’s not worth much of anything, really.

Numbers doesn’t move his hand from Lester’s face until Lester pulls back first. Wrench must be signing something because Numbers is looking over the top of his head. He’d turn around to see what they were saying, since his cousin is deaf and all, but he thinks they’d just clock him or something for intruding. Numbers smiles a sinister grin.

“I like the way you think.”

“Please, I don’t want any trouble,” Lester stammers.

Wrench rests a heavy hand on his shoulder, and Lester shivers involuntarily. Numbers slides even closer to him on the bench, and he begins to feel like he’s out of air. He stands up suddenly, eyes squinted and hands fisted. Why can’t they just leave him alone? He hasn’t caused them any trouble. Why won’t they leave him alone?

By the time Lester reopens his eyes, Numbers and Wrench are standing so close to him. They crowd him into a corner, with Numbers in front and Wrench behind. They mirror the same positions they had on the bench. Lester can feel the warmth coming off of them.

“C’mere, Lester,” Numbers murmurs, bringing his arms up for an embrace.

Lester has little choice but to allow him. He turns his head away in an attempt to keep himself as far away from them as possible, but in the end, it does very little. He feels Numbers growing hard against his hip, and then he knows exactly where this is going.

Wrench comes in a little closer. One hand on his shoulder, the other curling around his hip, just barely dipping into his waistband. Wrench presses his hips into his back, and it’s obvious that he’s hard to.

Lester harrumphs in the hopes it will distract them, make them let him go. Numbers chuckles darkly.

“C’mon. We can make it good for you. You told us the name, and we repay you with our services. When’s the last time someone treated you right, Lester?”

Lester bites his lips as he thinks over the proposition. He hasn’t had the most caring of people in his life. There was always an abundance of yelling and such a lack of comforting hands. Wrench digs his hand a little deeper. His skin is warm on his bare hip. Lester lets out a single sob. All he had to do was go to jail to find someone to care for him.

“Yeah, okay,” he squeaks

This is also part of what they do. The might be hired hit men, but they never killed arbitrarily. There were rules. It’s the same way the fuck. They weren’t going to make another move unless Lester consented. If he hadn’t wanted to, they would’ve been just as content to fuck each other. It was just always more fun with someone else.

“Okay,” Numbers parrots.

Quickly hands untuck his shirt and remove his belt. There’s lips on his neck—it’s Numbers—and Wrench removes his hands into the waistband of Lester’s red underwear. He’s half-dressed, but he feel so _exposed_. It’s happening too fast.

“Lester, Lester, look at me. Look at me.”

Numbers grabs his chin and forces him to make eye-contact. Lester’s eyes are dewy in the half-light, large and blue. And Numbers looks so sure of himself. He holds such confidence in his carriage.

“You’re okay. Do you understand me?”

Lester nods. Wrench pulls his underwear down by centimeters. Lester forces himself to stand still even though he feels as though he would fly apart.

Numbers signs to Wrench. He wants to watch Wrench jerk off Lester.

They both know Lester understands their conversation, so that’s one less bit of cajoling that Numbers will have to do.

Wrench sits back down on the bench and motions Lester over. Wrench looks mean and tough. He knows this man could kill him. Has tried to kill him. Lester gulps. But Lester sits down in his lap despite the hint of fear. His surge of arousal is much stronger. These big men want _him_ , of all people. Even if for a moment. They want to make him feel good.

Wrench’s big hands come up and stroke his bare thighs. He looks so pale and small in comparison. Those big hands are soon coming up to finish removing his underwear. It’s the moment of truth that Lester’s always struggled with.

Wrench frees his cock and lets it bob there a moment, half-hard and waiting for more attention. Lester’s face reddens as he sits under Numbers’ gaze. Wrench pulls a small tube of lube from an inside jacket pocket.

“Where the hell have you been keeping that?” Numbers asks.

Lester feels Wrench’s whole head move with the strength of his eye roll. The tiny tube opens with a snick. He drizzles the clear liquid from base to tip. It’s so cold, but soon Wrench’s hand is on him to warm him up.

“Ah!” Lester peeps.

Numbers smirks.

“Gotta keep your voice down, Les. Or the cops will think we’re taking advantage.”

“Aren’t you?” he says with a gasp.

“Don’t even pretend you’re not loving it. That old lug uses his hands all day long. We both know how good it feels to have them wrapped around our dick.”

God, if this is what Numbers is getting whenever he wants…Lester sighs again as he closes his eyes, happy this time. It feels so fucking good.

He senses that Numbers has come close to him again, and this time he finds he doesn’t mind. He opens his eyes to see Numbers rubbing his dick through his jeans.

He wriggles in his position on Wrench’s lap and feels his clothed cock press against his bare ass. It’s got to be torment to watch without getting any of the pleasure. Lester’s not sure if this means he “owes” them or not…

Lester boldly raises his hands to open his zipper and button. He pulls the band down with shaking hands to free his aching cock. There’s already a wet spot on his underwear. Lester gulps. He turns his head for a second and sees a cop at the copier. Visions of warm dorm beds and the smell of popcorn enter and leave his head quite rapidly. This isn’t anything like the times he lent a helping hand at college.

Wrench plays with his balls with his free hand and presses right up behind them. Lester starts to yowl, but Numbers swoops in just in time to press their lips together. It’s not a kiss exactly, but Lester feels like he’s falling apart. Wrench’s hand moves that much quickly until Lester’s shouting into Numbers’ mouth, who swallows it up with insistent lips and surprisingly gentle hands that run through his hair.

Wrench strokes him through his aftershocks until Lester mewls at him to stop. He takes in big gulps of air and everything comes roaring back to him: who he is, why he’s here.

Wrench gently deposits him on the spot on the bench next to him. Lester looks from him to Numbers for some kind of direction. They look like they want to eat him alive. Or probably just fuck him. But they don’t. They go to the other side of the room and start having a private discussion. 

Wrench says Numbers owes him big as he wipes Lester’s come off on his jeans. And Numbers promises to make it up to him later. Lester looks away when they start making out. 

He looks down at himself and feels ashamed. He was so desperate for someone to lo—, for someone to pay him some attention that he had let them…He let them touch him like that, so intimately, like it didn’t even matter. He shamefully pulls up his underwear and trousers even though there’s still come on him. He feels like he deserves to feel dirty. It will remind him of how sick he is.

The other two men finally leave, and Lester lets himself cry.

He’s passed out by the time Molly and the Chief show up, but he hears her open his door.

_Please leave, please leave, please leave…_

And like everything else in his life, she does.


End file.
